Whispers promise escape
from gray voices.
An orange grove,
now only dead dirt,
abandoned to the myths of return
of future generations.
These groves belonged to the makers
who planted them, and their children.
The outside world, as silent as complicity,
waits for the grief to end.
Great namesakes flounder in the gap
of relationship between native and foreigner.
Their whispers are cold and agonizing
to their people.
Like a breath of wind
or blossom petals blown by breezes,
the diaspora scatters our oaths.
We once were a country,
but now our world is gray
like the stone planted above the grass.
by Dustin David Pickering on Friday, August 5, 2011 at 10:12am
Harbinger Asylum
The writing I’d like anyone interested in my work to read is at this link: http://harbingerasylum.wordpress.com/2010/07/27/zaphor-by-dustin-pickering/
There is also a writing called “The Vast Majority” that explores the various concepts (selfish) about God. “Zaphor” is a exploration of guilt between lesbians (one who was previously heterosexual). One has a miscarriage from a previous relationship and feels her female-female relationship was the cause, i.e. she was punished by a divine power. I think they are beautiful pieces and I wrote them during a severe rage fit. Thank you.
I really like this poem. It feels relavent to the t imes. Sd
I still like this poem and it is even more relevent today. Good job Dustin